Category Archives: fiction

When your last class is over and you dismiss the students and tell them to GET OUT and you pull your bowtie open and then grow to the size of a five story apartment block, bursting through the science labs, the art room, through the spanish mission roof tiles and you start stepping through the crumbling building with your horned, green-scaled feet and unleashing murderous window-piercing reptilian screams and finally gathering speed, running through the sleepy town crushing each building as if they were paper nests in a meadow of tall grass, leaving footprints of destruction, death, sirens, burst fire hydrant geysers, and gas mains exploding into hot jets of flame; mountains of ruins where your armored tail swept city blocks aside as you turned to check your bearings, the smell of exhaust fumes and freedom.

Like this:

Quiet Cat put her empty lunch box back in the desk drawer, took out her ear buds, and slowly wound the cord around a butterfly clip, sighing. She used to enjoy her lunch breaks more, but had taken to listening to music during lunch to shut out her office mates’ conversations. Lately Gregarious Pig and Aggressive Goose were being very vocal about the the funky smell of other coworkers’ lunches. They would cackle and scream at the scent of Earnest Dog’s liver snacks, and they didn’t care that he hung his head.

Quiet Cat checked her reflection in the computer monitor, and pawed her whiskers to make sure there were no remaining crumbs, closing the desk drawer with the side of her leg. It would be another long, Friday afternoon of paper work and phone calls. Aggressive Goose would be by later for a file he had been asking for. Quiet Cat had finished with the file they day before, but she didn’t want to walk it over. Let him come get it himself, she thought. Sooner or later, she would clamp her jaws around Aggressive Goose’s long neck and shake him until his spine snapped. Someday, she thought.

The rest of the afternoon passed without much incident. Aggressive Goose had actually taken the afternoon off, along with half the office. Only Quiet Cat, Touchy Horse, and Overshare Snake were left, taking phone calls from customers and vendors, and by the end of the day they found themselves cleaning off their desks, listening to the radio, waiting the last few minutes for the clock to reach five o’clock.

Hiss, said Overshare Snake, you go ahead. I can close up without you.

Meow, said Quiet Cat. Are you sure?

Hiss hiss, replied Overshare Snake. Yah, get out of here. The missus is meeting me here at 5:15, and we’re going to have dinner at the park. Overshare Snake arched his eyebrows to show that there was more to the story.

Meow, said Quiet Cat. Thanks. You all have a good weekend.

Overshare Snake nodded and headed to the break room, smiling, to turn out the lights. Quiet Cat was already halfway out the door.

The sun shone a warm yellow on West 46th Street as it set over the Hudson. Everybody complains about having to walk through Times Square, but Quiet Cat didn’t mind. This is what life looks like, she thought. It was good to be out of that office.

It was a nice enough day to walk. As she turned onto 6th Avenue she felt her phone vibrate. It was a text message from Silly Squirrel, wanting to know if he should buy his ladyfriend 1-inch hoop earrings, 1.5-inch hoop earrings, or 2-inch hoop earrings. Silly Squirrel had been through several failed relationships and had been burned a few times. Last year, the bird that Silly Squirrel had been dating left him for his own cousin. Ever since then, Silly Squirrel was pretty cynical about females, so it surprised Quiet Cat that he was suddenly worried about getting the right gift.

Meow, Quiet Cat texted back, depends on the size of her ankles.

Later, when Quiet Cat was waiting in line at Whole Foods, Silly Squirrel texted back that he didn’t understand.

Quiet Cat slipped her phone back into her purse without replying. Meow, she thought. He’ll figure it out.